


Black Holes

by TheAshla (cannedpeaches)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Lost Stars - Claudia Gray, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Battle of Endor, F/M, Mild Smut, So much angst, past Kanan/Hera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 02:37:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14661576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannedpeaches/pseuds/TheAshla
Summary: Hera Syndulla is not immune to loneliness.





	Black Holes

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this hurt to write.
> 
> But the plot and situation wouldn't get out of my head, so here it is.

It happened only once.

 

The dregs of fireworks were crackling in the dark Endor sky, and to Hera, pleasantly warm from engine hooch, the dying sparks looked like stars. She was sitting on the _Ghost_ ’s ramp, surrounded by trees and the soft night sounds of the forest. In the distance, she saw the bonfires still burning brightly in the Ewoks’ village. Inside the ship, her son slept soundly, exhausted from all the excitement despite his protests to the contrary. Hera breathed deep, closing her eyes, and the fresh air felt like victory.

 

On today of all days, Kanan should have been here.

 

Hera exhaled, and the knot that had formed in her chest at the thought of Kanan traveled into her throat and stuck there. She hugged her knees to her chest and willed away the prickling in her eyes. She was exhausted; she was coming down from the adrenaline of battle; she’d lost a lot of good pilots today. She wasn’t crying over Kanan, not five years after his death. She wouldn’t.

 

After all, she was lucky: She had her life, her ship, her son. And now, she had a free galaxy--the one thing she’d wanted ever since she was a child.

 

Well, maybe not the only thing. She knew better than to think that way anymore.

 

If she had been in a better mood, she might have laughed at her own brooding; Kanan was still with her, in ways expected and wholly surprising.

 

She started when she heard a rustling in the brush directly in front of her. She cleared her throat and called out: “Who’s there?”

 

“It is only I, General,” replied a familiar voice.

 

“Yendor.” His shaped solidified as he emerged from the treeline, his spine straight, belying the exhausted slump of his shoulders. “What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be at the party?”

 

Yendor snorted. He came to a stop at the bottom of the ramp, several meters from her, and put his fists on his hips. “ _I could say the same to you_ ,” he said in Ryl.

 

Hera’s lekku brushed against her back as she shook her head, but she was smiling. “ _It was past Jacen’s bedtime_.”

 

At the mention of rest, Yendor stretched his arms over his head, a few joints cracking as he yawned wide. “ _t is past mine, too, but I doubt I will get any sleep tonight. Today is a battle won, but tomorrow, there is still an entire galaxy to clean up._ ”

 

Hera sighed. “ _You're right, of course. But tonight is tonight._ ” T’chin flicked at the tip, calling him toward her. “ _I still have a little of this left_ ,” she added, holding her cup of rough liquor out to him.

 

He ascended the ramp on light feet and sat next to her. When he took the cup from her, his hot fingers brushed over hers, and she shivered. Perhaps the night was colder than she thought.

 

They sat in companionable silence, passing the hooch back and forth, until the final fireworks winked out and the village fires burned down to embers. Although she hadn't been at all close enough to feel their heat, a chill began to wind its way up from her toes. She wrapped her arms around herself, bracing her elbows on her knees as she sat forward, making herself smaller. On her left, the warmth from Yendor’s body permeated the sleeve of her shirt.

 

She glanced at his profile in her periphery. Although Yendor was younger than her, he looked old in the shadows the trees cast on his face, and even though he looked at the stars, his eyes were dull. He had a wife, she knew, and children, and it occurred to her then that he probably hadn’t seen them in a long time.

 

As if reading her thoughts, Yendor met her gaze. Hera flinched but did not turn away. She wasn’t drunk, but she’d had just enough alcohol to make her bold.

 

“ _When is the last time you were home?_ ” he asked.

 

Hera blinked. “ _Home?_ ”

 

His expression was inscrutable. “ _Ryloth._ ”

 

A blush crept from Hera’s chest up into her cheeks. _Oh. Of course._ “ _I’m not sure. Jacen’s last birthday, maybe._ ”

 

Yendor gave a humorless bark of a laugh. “ _Then you are lucky. I have not been home in years._ ”

 

Hera’s heart clenched in her chest. She ached every time she had to leave Jacen behind to go on a mission; she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be away from him for years. To miss the sound of his feet running through the _Ghost_ , his easy laugh, the bright spark in his eyes that reminded her so much of his father--which was a different kind of ache, but one that she never wanted to be without.

 

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” she said, putting one hand on his elbow. He looked down at it, then up at her face again. “ _I know what it’s like to miss someone._ ”

 

Yendor bit his lip, then said, “ _Yes, General, I know you do._ ”

 

“ _Hera_ ,” she said. “ _You can call me Hera._ ”

 

As she gazed into his face, Hera was struck by the lunatic realization that she hadn’t been this close to a man who wasn’t in some way her family in--

 

Well. It had been years.

 

Yendor’s eyes were dark with a desperate loneliness that made her stomach tie itself in knots. She knew that loneliness. It had shadowed her for five years now, from Lothal to Yavin, from Hoth to Endor. It colored her dreams--the ones where Kanan was alive, to vibrant and real that she was sure she could reach out and touch him, and if she could only grab his hand, he would be back, he would be _here_ , and she wouldn’t be alone. She dreamed of fire, bright eyes she thought she’d never see again, his sweet, crooked smile.

 

But the dreams that were hardest to bear were the ones where she couldn’t see anything, but she could feel his mouth hot and wet on her skin, hear the gasp in his voice as he said her name, his hands broad and strong on the small of her back as he filled her, that familiar strain of pleasure from which Jacen had been conceived.

 

And after those particular dreams, she would wake, sweaty and frustrated and then filled with guilt, that these were the fading memories she had of a dead man.

 

Was it so terrible, she wondered, to want even a few minutes where she didn’t miss him?

 

And so when she embraced Yendor, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close, she let herself be comforted by his body heat, let him pull back a bit and, with one finger, lift her chin and kiss her.

 

It was chaste, his lips dry and closed against her own, but when she opened her mouth to him, trying to let in something she’d been missing for a very long time, it quickly became heated.

 

Almost everything after was a warm blur:

 

Hands stroking lekku.

 

Fingers fumbling against zippers.

 

Muscles moving under her palms.

 

The cold of the cargo bay floor against her back.

 

Salt and spice on her tongue.

 

And when he entered her, the pain was from things both familiar and foreign. Yendor didn’t feel like Kanan, with his lekku winding tight around hers and his thin cock covered with smooth, undulating barbs. She’d forgotten how good it could feel to be with someone of her own species, fitting together with no effort. Tears sprung to her eyes at the thought, and she wrapped her legs tighter around Yendor’s waist, urging him deeper so she could forget, could get lost in his rhythm, his breath on her cheek.

 

She hadn’t had anyone but Kanan in fifteen years, and the breath in her lungs sang and sobbed for him, for herself, for Yendor, for his wife, for the other black holes in the galaxy that were too full and too empty.

 

When it was over, they dressed quietly, and Yendor pressed her fingers with his own as he left.

 

In the morning, she would wake with a start, and when the memories came for her, she swallowed them down with the bile in her throat.

 

It happened only once. She wouldn’t let it happen again.

**Author's Note:**

> I yell about _Star Wars_ books over at [Book Wars Pod](www.bookwarspod.com).


End file.
